


Be Still

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Couch Sex, Disabled Character, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt Spencer Reid, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Season/Series 05, Self-Insert, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Walking Canes, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: When Spencer is given the all clear to “exercise” after he was shot, his girlfriend decides to go for a ride.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 136





	Be Still

Canes are a versatile tool. It was the first thing I learned when Spencer ditched his crutches in favor of the single mobility aid. From the way I’m describing it, it may sound lewd, but usually it wasn’t. The vast majority of the tasks that involved the cane were entirely innocent and mundane.

Others, however, were not.

I couldn’t tell you the first time he used that damn thing like more of a toy than a tool, but I could tell you that it forever changed the way I would see it. Between the soft taps of the wood against my backside to the way he would drag the handle so softly against my skin, my body was quickly learning to see the item as an extension of him.

Spencer was learning to treat it the same way. I knew that he was enjoying his little experiments, but it never stopped me from being caught off guard when it happened. Even when I _really_ should’ve seen it coming.

“How’s that, babe?” I asked as I struggled to fix the pillows on the couch without toppling over onto my boyfriend. He’d finally been given the all-clear to return to his normal daily routine, but it was still important for him to take the few chances he had to rest at home.

It was obvious to see, though, that Spencer was positively restless. He’d never been locked down like this before, and he hated being immobile and dependent much more than he’d anticipated.

“It’s fine. Could be better, though,” he pouted, letting his head roll to the side so I could see those puppy dog eyes clearer.

“Oh? How’s that?”

He reached out and grabbed my hand before he cleverly replied, “I could have a pretty girl on my lap.”

“You’re funny,” I said with a roll of the eyes. We both knew that it was a bad idea. He was just letting base urges trump logic, and I wasn’t going to enable him. But that also meant I had to leave fast, because the second he started begging, I knew I would be fucked. Literally.

Two steps. That’s as far as I made it before he stopped me. It wasn’t with his hands or his words— it was with that goddamn cane.

The handle hooked around my arm, tugging me back just enough that Spencer was able to grab hold and spin me back around. If that movement wasn’t dizzying enough, he dropped the cane back at his side and held onto me with both hands. One hand, as expected, held tightly to my hips to stop my retreat, but the other landed on the back of my neck. Spencer wound his fingers through the hair there like he was grabbing hold of the scruff of an animal, forcing me forward until our faces were almost touching.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he growled just before he kissed me. Everything about the situation was rough; our bodies were both shaking from the strain of the awkward position of me leaned over him with his feet propped up on the recliner. But the restraint was required to prevent a disaster.

At least, I was showing restraint. Spencer, though, not so much. When he let go of me, I didn’t think anything of it at first. I figured he just needed the strength elsewhere. And in a way, I guess I was right, because the next thing I knew, Spencer had lifted the cane behind my back and grabbed the other end. I felt the wood press harder and harder against my back until I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Mmmphhh!” was the sound of my muffled cries against his lips as I teetered on my toes, only barely catching myself from toppling forward.

“Be careful!” I shouted in sheer panic, “I almost fell on you!”

“I want you on me,” he said through a jaw steeled shut. The frustration came through so clearly in his tone that I had to feel bad for him.

Just like I’d predicted, I was already giving in to him.

“Spencer… I don’t want to hurt you,” I stated as carefully as I could. I needed him to know that my attraction to him had never been, and never would be, the problem.

He didn’t give a shit about the reason, though. He only cared about results.

“ _Please_ ,” he begged with a low, crackling voice, “It’s been two months. I miss you so much.”

It was so hard to ignore him when he used that tone. He just sounded so goddamn pitiful. Even as I relented, climbing onto the couch and slowly finding a way to straddle him without unnecessary pain, Spencer hadn’t stopped whining. It was just that the new noises were muffled by his face buried in my neck. Like I needed any more convincing.

“Did you miss me?” he slurred once I finally found my seat on his lap. Before I could answer, he made sure to latch his lips around my pulse, ensuring that whatever answer came out would be said through a moan.

“Yes,” I cried, “Yes, I missed you.”

There wasn’t any hesitation left in me at that point, and my fingers were so enthusiastic as they tried to undo his shirt buttons that they were actually shaking. They did the job well enough, but as soon as Spencer noticed, he was laughing.

“I thought you were scared you were going to hurt me?” he kindly reminded.

I wasn’t in the mood for his teasing, though. If he wanted to do this, I would be more than willing, but it was going to happen fast— before one of us realized just how bad of an idea it was. And for all his snark, he’d discarded the cane just as quickly. It clattered to the floor as gracelessly as I whined, “Shut up.”

My hands drifteddown his exposed chest until it hit the waistband of his slacks. When the buttons and zipper were finally undone, Spencer sighed at the relief from the pressure. But it was short lived, as he just as quickly realized that his pants were decidedly in the way. Normally, I would insist he take them off. I mean, no matter how careful you are, you’re going to get them dirty, and I’d already taken the dry cleaning that week.

But then again… If things had to go fast, some sacrifices would have to be made. And lucky for him, I was wearing a skirt.

“Don’t worry about our clothes,” I huffed, already working to free him from his boxers without removing them.

Spencer was thrilled, to say the least, although you might not know it from the way he continued to laugh.

“So eager,” he purred.

Despite him mocking me, he was the one ignoring what I’d just said and pulling my shirt over my head.

“Me?” I scoffed, “ _I’m_ the eager one?”

He waited until my head was free again, my mouth dropping open from a gasp as his hands got their new grip. Then, with a cheeky little nod, he hummed a little, “Mhm” just before he pulled my bra down, laying feverish kisses over my breasts. 

But I wasn’t willing to give up that easily. If we were going to rank our desire, I would make damn sure that he remembered which of us was wrapped around the other’s finger.

“We’ll see about that.”

I didn’t give him the chance to fight me, my hand dropping between us and pulling my already soaked underwear to the side. With a roll of my hips and a soft stroke of my hand, I guided him to my entrance. There was no need nor time for anticipation, so I started to drop my hips as fast as I could without hurting myself in the process.

“ _Fuck_!” Spencer cursed halfway under his breath.

It sounded enough like praise that it elicited a giggle among my moans, which only seemed to frustrate him further. Once I was fully seated on him, I waited, watching him with fascination and admiration. He’d already started to squirm, his hips barely able to lift from the weakness in his leg.

He was helpless, opening those big brown eyes and biting down on his lip in a silent plea for me to do something, anything. But I just stayed there, dragging my fingers down the side of his face and watching the way the pink skin blanched under my touch.

“Please.”

The word came out so small and so shy that I almost didn’t hear it. When I didn’t change my position, he continued with a pathetic buck of his hips, “You win. Please.”

“That’s what I thought,” I sighed happily. That noise was followed by many others, and eventually my hands found their way into his hair, pulling Spencer away from me so I could hear all the wonderful sounds spilling from his lips. They got louder the slower my movements became, and eventually his features contorted into something closely resembling pain.

“Does it hurt?” I whispered, scared to ruin the mood but also filled with a very mood-killing concern.

But Spencer shook his head, blurting out, “Not even a little bit.”

I got the answer to that look on his face when his nails dragged over my sides, sure to leave marks in their wake.

“Move faster,” he ordered.

“Now who’s eager?” I tried to tease. I say try because it clearly didn’t work. While I had essentially come to a halt as I settled on his lap, Spencer had made up his mind.

He was tired of waiting.

Lifting my hips, he looked me in the eyes as he seethed, “I said _faster_.” 

When he slammed me back down on him, I swear my vision went white. My legs were trembling and my hands had clutched his shoulders in a last-ditch effort not to fall off his lap. In the lust filled haze, I almost forgot to be careful. Spencer didn’t care at all, though, just continuing to force our bodies together as fast as his arms would allow.

“F-Fuck, yes,” he said between pants, desperately trying to keep his eyes open and locked with mine, “Let me use you just a little while longer, sweetheart.”

He said it like there was ever a chance of me stopping him. I couldn’t even answer, my mind laser focused on the tension building in my stomach. I tried to help him, but every time he pulled me back down, I was rendered helpless.

The way he looked at me was even more overwhelming. Sweat beaded on his brow and his breath came out in short bursts from an open mouth still curved in a smirk. His half-lidded eyes still consumed the sight of me, disheveled and half-naked on his lap while he commanded every part of me.

That look, that absolutely wild and smitten look did me in. I was torn between wanting to watch it and wanting to bury it in my chest as my body started to come undone. I decided on a combination of the two, pulling him as close to me as I could in the position.

He looked up at me, insistent in seeing and memorizing the look on my face as I reached my peak and brought him over the edge with me. He shouted my name like a prayer, repeating it over and over as he filled me.

When his arms finally fell limp, I followed with an equal lack of grace. Collapsing over his chest, he mumbled a breathy, “Thank god.”

“God had nothing to do with it, stud,” I said through a chuckle that Spencer returned, albeit less restlessly than the one that had started this ordeal. 

“Thank you. But you have to get up.”

There was probably a better way of dismounting him, but I did the best I could in my inebriated state. Flopping over onto the couch beside him and readjusting my underwear, I looked down at his leg that he’d immediately grabbed with both hands.

“How bad does it hurt?”

“Right now? Barely,” he cringed, “Once these endorphins wear off, though…”

“You idiot!” I burst out in laughter, unable to contain the inevitable, “I told you so!”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” he said with his own warm smile, “Worth it, though.”


End file.
